A Turnaround Dance
by Padfoot Princess
Summary: What if there were a turnaround dance at Hogwarts? If the trio got into spats over dates and H/H & H/R merge? Read on! Find out! NEW CHAPTER ADDED TODAY! R/R!
1. A Turnaround Dance, A Turnaround Relatio...

A Turnaround Dance, A Turnaround Relationship ****

A Turnaround Dance, A Turnaround Relationship

"C'mon Hermione, it won't be so bad", insisted Ron.

"I didn't say it was going to be bad!" Cried Hermione.

"Than why won't you do it?" Shouted back her companion.

"Because, overall, they are showing that on a regular basis men dominate in our society, since when woman take the upper hand it is considered unusual!" Hermione shrieked. 

"Maybe, if I knew what that meant, I would be able to see your argument!" Countered Ron.

"It means that I don't agree with the whole idea!" Hermione stomped off. 

Ron was bewildered, left standing there.

"What was that all about?" Inquired Harry, who had just appeared by his side. 

"She won't go!" Ron vented.

"Go-where, Ron?" Questioned Harry.

"Oh-you wouldn't know. I guess you don't get much company down in the hospital wing, huh? Well, there is a dance coming up." Explained Ron.

Harry nodded; he had been in the hospital wing for the past few nights after taking a nasty fall off his Firebolt. The Firebolt had remained intact, and Harry had caught the Golden Snitch, but had badly damaged his arms and legs in the process. 

"And it's a turnaround dance, so girls have to ask guys", Ron continued.

"I'm guessing you told Hermione to take you so you wouldn't look bad, but she thinks that turnaround dances show that chicks never think for themselves and won't instigate a date, and she won't go with you." Finished Harry for him.

"Yes", breathed Ron.

Harry knew Ron had been quite taken with Hermione for some time now, and inviting her to invite him to the ball must have been a big step. Ron was probably crushed. 

"Ron, it's not you, she just does not want to be the average girl who giggles and squeals about guys just because of some silly dance. She's better than that."

Ron hardly looked comforted. 

"Yes, it is. I am just the freckled, tall, gangly kid with a large nose who will never get a girlfriend, let alone someone like Hermione!"

"That's not true, Ron! I told you-Ron? Ron, come back!" Harry yelled after his friend, who had left in a hurry. Harry exhaled deeply and reluctantly went to search for Hermione. He found her in the library, which surprised no one. 

"Hermione." He began. 

Hermione had her head down, sitting at one of the many tables in the cavernous library. She looked up, and much to Harry's bewilderment, there were tears streaked down her cheeks. He gasped in amazement and instantly wondered what was wrong.

"Hermione, don't be upset." Harry said gently.

Hermione jumped up and ran from the room. Harry could hear her crying. Instantaneously he, too, sprang from his seat but thought better of it. Hermione obviously needed to be by herself now. Slowly Harry lowered himself back down. He needn't bother her. Yet Harry still wanted to go somewhere-anywhere. He decided upon The Golden Oak. The Golden Oak is a large tree in the Hogwarts Grounds, which is forever glistening as though sprinkled with crystal dew and always blooming huge, beautiful pink lurid flowers. Several an afternoon Harry had spent sitting lazily on one of its top branches. He was securely hidden, and the view was incredible. He could see all over the Hogwarts grounds. He found it quite calming for when he had to think, and just than think he did. 

Once reaching the immerse tree, he used a simple spell to get on top of it. He sucked in the air up there, as it was much crisper and cooler, sweeter than that below. As if on command, his mind cleared. _Why was she so disapproving to Ron? _He wondered. And, furthermore, _Why was she so upset?_ Harry was perplexed. His best friend asked his other best friend to a Turnaround Dance and she blew up in his face. He was crushed, and she was crying. None of it made any sense. Harry began to ponder all of the truth spells he knew, to see if he could perform any to make them tell him what, exactly, was going on. But he stopped, because he realized, if he were in such a position, he would not want to tell anyone his innermost thoughts. How, than? How could he make Hermione confess her feelings without hurting Ron? How could he get Ron to admit _his_ emotions without hurting Hermione? It seemed impossible. And, indeed, it nearly was. However, if Harry had come upon a specific explanation earlier on, he would have certainly solved the enigma by now.

Hermione fled to the only other place she knew she could find solitude. She had come across it early on in the year, and now often used it when she had to sort things out. Only she knew that she wasn't _always_ going to the library for comfort. Here she was in complete silence, with only her and her surroundings. She dare not let the exact spot of her 'other library' be found out. More tears leaked their way out of her eyes. So confused. Who to trust? Who to believe? No answer came to her, just as none had come to Harry. How could she have run out on him like that? It wasn't as though she was angry with him. Quite the contrary. And Ron-oh, Ron. He had asked her to the dance, and what had she done? Screamed at him! Yet, he had only asked her so he wouldn't look bad. Or had he? Hermione couldn't understand his logic, or Harry's. If guys _have_ logic, that is. Hermione tried to shift through her thoughts, but she found it impossible

"ARGH!" She shouted aloud. And just a few feet from her, hidden from view, a certain black-haired, green-eyed someone heard her.

Harry jumped at the noise, hitting his head on the branch above him. He barely felt it, though, as just then he recognized the voice. 

"Hermione?" He called out cautiously. 

"Harry?" She called back, just as hesitant.

"What are you doing here?" Asked a very puzzled Harry.

"What are you doing here?" Retorted Hermione. 

"Just sitting-and you?" Replied Harry, his tone softening.

Hermione nodded, than remembered Harry couldn't see her, so she said, "Basically the same." 

Harry felt a surge of relief-he thought Hermione was plotting to kill someone or something. 

"Why did you run out like that?" Interrogated Harry innocently.

"I-I Harry, I have to tell this to you to your face."

Hermione twisted around so that she was sitting in front of Harry. Her deep copper eyes parallel with his famous sparkling green ones, she spoke. "Harry-I love you." She was surprised at how easily the words had come out. I love you. Just like that. She blinked slowly, still not processing the fact that she had finally told him. The truth-as Albus Dumbledore put it, "A beautiful and terrible thing." She became lost in thought (as she often did) and was not aware that Harry was gazing at her in an almost affectionate way.

"Hermione." It was not a realization, it was not a thoughtful expression. It was a statement. Harry considered her, somehow not shocked by her words. It seemed natural to him. Some invisible force galvanized him into his next action. He leaned forward, with the catlike grace one needed to use on a tree branch, and kissed Hermione. It was short, and sweet, and perfect. There was an incredible amount of feeling in it, yes, passion and mystery and the tiniest hint of-was it remorse? -snowballed into one. 

When it ended, neither spoke. They stared into each other's faces, each one's expression thoughtful. Hermione knew, with all of her heart that she loved Harry. And, undoubtedly, that he loved her back. And that Ron-how sorry she was to admit it! –had true feelings for Hermione as well. They had a silent agreement, an understanding. They were in love, they were a couple, and they were meant for each other. Yet their best friend was in love with Hermione too. They both valued Ron's company too much to let him know about this just now. 

"Harry, Ron." Hermione pointed out, though she was certain they both already had been thinking of him. Hermione and Harry may be soul mates, but Ron was still as close to them as they were to each other. How to tell him? How to break his heart?


	2. A Turnaround Turnarounds

The next morning Hermione and Harry met at the Great Hall, by the entrance, as designated the night before. Although they both meant to negotiate their problem with Ron, they were speechless. There seemed to be no easy way out of it. It was quite a situation. Several minutes later, no ideas had voluntarily amounted, and they were still quite unresolved. Hermione piped up, cheerily.

"Well, you never know, maybe Ron will be fine with the whole thing." Hermione's voice had started out bright and optimistic, becoming less and less joyful as the sentence progressed. Harry's face fell at her statement, therefore, so did hers. They were both crestfallen. They had little time until Ron entered the hall to eat, and what could they do? Too late-Ron had entered, and Hermione and Harry were without a plan. 
    
    "Hermione", Harry hissed, "We have to improvise-play it by ear. Don't let Ron find out. Not under any circumstance. It's our only choice." Harry leaned over to speak in Hermione's ear. She nodded.
    "I feel bad about this Harry." She whispered back, informing him.

"So do I! I hate lying to him, Hermione, just like you. It's only for a little while anyway. So come on, baby. Just-when we have worked things out, we will tell him. Promise." 

Hermione's lip quivered as she nodded, and they headed to their seats. They sat down on either side of Ron, like at every other meal. Ron, too into his cereal to notice his friends' arrival, only grunted when they both greeted him Good Morning. Hermione rolled her eyes, disgusted by the wasted effort of 'just friends' on the way to the table. Harry, oblivious, dug into a plate of waffles.

"So…uh…Ron…how was your day?" Hermione lamely tried to make conversation. How easy it had been before! Now, now that she was acting it was so much more difficult. Acting normal was making Hermione act irregular. The irony of it. 

"Um, well, Hermione, seeing as it's only eight thirty, my day hasn't been too interesting yet." Ron shot her a funny look.

"Oh, right, I meant, your day beginning with midnight…since, you know, technically it has been day for eight and half hours. How were those eight and half hours?" Hermione blushed. She was rambling; she knew it. 

"First…I slept…and than I slept some more…and when I woke up…I brushed my hair and teeth, than got dressed…would you like details?" Ron mocked.
    
    "I…uh…yes…no…" Hermione flailed about for a cover-up. 

"Whatever, Herm. I suppose you can't be a genius all the time." Ron chuckled. Hermione looked down at a plate of sausages and scrapple.

Hermione thought she would have to make up for her botching of the plan. Ron shot her a furtive look. Hermione drew in a breath, not quite believing that she was about to say this.

"Ron, I have-have-have-I like you. Ok? I like you." Hermione felt awful saying it, especially because it wasn't true. She mouthed to Harry; "It's an act." He nodded, at first he had looked stricken and aghast. She liked Ron, he was her other best friend (well, her only best friend now, because Harry was her boyfriend) yes, not like that, though! Ron stared at her misty-eyed. 

"So…uh…I was thinking we could go out." She wrinkled her nose. Playing him like this was not humoring her. Ron's whole face lit up. "Yes, I have been in l-love (her voice strangled for a moment at the insincerity of this statement before she finished) you." She looked down, ashamed that she had lied to him. "If it's okay with you, I'd perfectly understand if you didn't want to, just be honest, I won't mind-" Hermione was cut off by Ron.

"Shut up and kiss me." Ron breathed. Hermione had no choice. She grimaced, squeezed her eyes shut tight, and leaned close to him. Their lips touched for the briefest second, and than she drew back as though she had ate something repulsive. Her stomach recoiled. She smiled rather painfully at Ron, who was ecstatic. Hermione knew that Ron believed they were a couple now. Only one thing was in the way of that-it would be a one-sided relationship. And Hermione would be doing the feigning. Hermione glanced over to Harry. Was it her imagination, or were his eyes unusually bright? She must speak with him, though it would be tricky. Ron would, most likely, cling to Hermione like a leech now and getting alone time with Harry would be difficult. 

Hermione sat on a couch by herself in the Gryffindor Common Room. She wasn't doing much of anything, basically just observing the things going on around her. Unannounced, Ron sat down next to her and wrapped his arm around her back. His embrace was nothing but cold to Hermione. Pale, dead flesh resting on hers. He kissed her on her cheek, and Hermione gagged silently. When Ron averted his gaze, Hermione wiped the spot repeatedly, attempting to sterilize it. When Ron fixed his gaze upon her lovingly as before, she immediately drew the hand away, so as not to arouse suspicion. 

She loathed deceiving Ron. He was so fulfilled when he was near her…so joyous. And she felt like a rat. Ah, romance, in its purest form. 

Hermione met Harry in the Common Room at midnight that night; they were the only ones there, so they would not have to put on a show. They could bring out their true feelings now, in the light of the dying fire. Hermione saw longing, love, and lust in Harry's emerald pupils. He saw shame in hers. 

"Hermione." Harry kissed her softly, and the kiss lingered. Hermione savored it, and drew him in closer. Harry steered them to sit on a couch rather than standing uncomfortably as they had prior. Hermione, without warning, broke off the kiss and looked away, tears filling her eyes. She had realized something, and she feared to tell anyone.

"What's wrong, honey?" Harry gently turned her head so he could face her. She resisted his grip and wrenched her head back again. Harry put his hand on Hermione again, and again he twisted her head-more violently this time. He kissed her, and she resisted. The kiss was deep, yet without a trace of passion. Hermione struggled to get out of it but Harry's arms, strengthened from hours of Quidditch practice, held her like a vice. After several minutes she broke free-but only after Harry had loosened his Hulk squeeze. 
    
    "Leave me alone!" She cried out. Harry grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her backward. She stumbled, fell, and hit her head on the opposite wall with a sickening crack. She was unconscious.
    Harry felt no guilt as he stepped, refined, up to his dormitory. He slept peacefully through the night, with no dreams or nightmares to disturb him.
    Hermione woke the next day in the hospital wing. She glanced around dazedly, painfully aware of the sun shining bright into her eyes, which she had the half-close in order to protect. She smelled bacon, faintly, and it was no wonder when Madam Pomfrey bustled up to her with a breakfast tray. Wonderful foods were piled upon it, from bacon and eggs to sausage and hash browns. Hermione ate doggedly, thoroughly hungry from the occurrences of the past night.
    "Poor girl," She heard Madam Pomfrey mutter, as she waddled about, plumping pillows and checking temperatures. Hermione, having ate her full, fell back against her own pillow (freshly plumped) and drifted off to sleep immediately.
    "Herm, Hermione, wake up." Hermione became vaguely aware of someone calling her name, and she tried to push the sound away. It persisted. "Herm, it's me." Against her will, she opened her eyes and stared up at the face hovering worriedly above her. She licked her parched lips and smiled weakly.
    "Ron." She managed to say, and he put a hand to her forehead as he stroked her luscious bronze hair softly. His own flaming locks fell over his face, freckled, as watched Hermione.
    "Hermione, how did this happen?" He asked her, his voice kindly, though she knew the importance of his words. Her answer was vital. She continued to look him straight in the face, though it was steadily becoming foggier. She attempted to focus, finding it impossible. She gave up, sinking again into her slumber.
    Hermione slept with Ron at the edge of her bed for hours, only leaving at dusk, when Madam Pomfrey shooed him away ("Out! Out! My patient needs rest!") Hermione awoke in the middle of the night, sweating, her senses totally alert. She heard the rustling of sheets and tensed, before relaxing upon seeing it was only another student in the bed next to her. Her eyes adjusted quickly, and she scanned the room. In the darkness she could make out her bedside table. There were two vases of flowers, from Harry and Ron, no doubt. _Filthy scum!_ She thought, feeling a bitter taste in her mouth, remembering what Harry had done to her. She tried to reach a shaky hand out to crush the flowers from Harry with, but found she was too weak. Besides, she wouldn't have been able to tell which vase was from him anyway. She was certain one was from him, however, he couldn't blow his cover by not sending her flowers. Hermione was still puzzled, however. Why would he do such a thing to her? He had seemed perfectly loving just days before. She had good feelings toward him than, but now...she didn't know what to think. For now, filthy scum could sum up her sentiments to a tee. She balled up her fists on the covers, crumpling them magnificently.
    The next morning, Ron again greeted her. Madam Pomfrey stood by him, shaking her head. "I hope you're feeling better by now?" She asked with a scowl. Hermione nodded and climbed unsteadily out of the bed. Ron helped her regain balance, before he left her so she could change from her hospital dress to her robes. Truthfully, Hermione didn't feel so much better, but she knew she had already well overdone her stay at the infirmary. She was not pleased to find an egg-sized lump at the base of her skull. _Harry_, she thought, cringing. Ron rejoined her outside the hospital wing doors, where he had been waiting for her.
    "Hey," He smiled warmly down at her. She nodded tiredly. "Hermione, do you have any idea of who did this to you?" The question surprised her, and she looked up sharply. He had asked her the night before, true, while she had been too overcome with exhaustion to ponder the consequences of her replying. This time she made up her mind, as they walked towards the Gryffindor Common Room with purpose.
    "I do." Her tone was quiet.
    "Who?" Ron pressed urgently.
    "Harry."


End file.
